If he’s anything like his high school self, he will still be pissed. And disappointed despite the win. He was always hard on himself.
He learned that from his asshole father.
“You’ll want to stay, right?” Cade asks me. “To see your ex? Or is he even going to show up?”
“I want to stay,” I tell him quietly, trying my best not to betray my nerves, because they’re fluttering like a million and one butterflies in my stomach, dipping and swirling and reminding me that I drank two glasses of wine on an empty stomach and my head is a little spinny.
Jordan will show up. How I know this, I’m not exactly sure, but I have complete confidence that his butt will be in this suite within thirty minutes, mark my words. There’s a reason he gave me those tickets and wanted me to watch his game in the fancy suite. It wasn’t out of the graciousness of his heart.
He brought me here on his turf and knew I wouldn’t be able to resist his request. Maybe he wants to show off, rub it in? Let me know what I’ve been missing all these years? Remind me of just how successful he is and I’m a complete idiot for dumping him?
Or maybe those are my own thoughts, my own insecurities shining through.
The suite clears out pretty quickly. There are two guys in suits who are sticking around, clutching watered down drinks as they talk in low murmurs, their expressions intense. And there’s an older couple still standing in front of the giant window who are practically vibrating with excitement, making me think they must be related to one of the players. There are a few women here too. Beautiful women of various shapes and sizes, all of them eyeing each other up like they’re in some sort of competition.
And maybe they are. God, maybe they’re all waiting to see…Jordan? No, they can’t all be waiting for him.
Right?
“I hope they don’t take too much longer.” Cade stifles a yawn, his eyes droopy. “I’m exhausted, and I have to be at work at seven tomorrow. Have an early appointment.”
Oh wow, I feel terrible for making him stick around. He does have a life, after all. But I kind of need him by my side too, for emotional support. I’m working hard at playing it cool, calm and collected on the outside, but inside? I’m a total wreck. I’m so nervous I feel like I could hyperventilate.
“Do you want to go ahead and leave?” I offer like an idiot, praying he says no.
He sends me a relieved smile instead. “Maybe? Yeah, we probably should. Sorry we can’t meet your ex, but I’m tired. We still have a long drive home too.”
Disappointment crashes within me as I let Cade take my hand and lead me out of the suite. My mind is racing, screaming at me to stay. Stay. STAY. But I don’t protest, I don’t tell Cade to stop, I just follow after him like a good little girl.
What the hell am I doing?
We’re barely down the expansive hallway when I see them. Two giant men headed in our direction. I know without a doubt who one of them is.
Jordan.
And to his left, walking directly toward me? It’s our old friend from high school,
Cannon Whittaker.
“Amanda Winters, is that you?” Cannon holds his hand at eyebrow level and squints at me like I’m a shining sun too bright for him to stare at. Without thought, I let go of Cade’s hand, making my way toward Cannon, keeping my eyes averted so I don’t have to look at Tuttle.
I am a coward, but at least I’m aware of my faults.
Cannon’s arms open and I throw myself at him, giving him a long hug. I haven’t seen him in person since the summer after we graduated high school, and he looks great. Somehow, he’s bigger and taller, though his dark blond hair is shorn close, like usual. He definitely looks more grown up now, and I squeeze him as close as I can, though really it’s like hugging a stone wall.
“It’s so good to see you.” My voice is muffled against his hard-as-a-rock chest.
“It’s great to see you too.” He shifts away from me, his hands on my shoulders, his gaze taking me in. “You look amazing.”
“You are too kind,” I say with a laugh, suddenly feeling shy. And inadequate in my rumpled work clothes. I can feel Jordan watch me, his glowering presence making my legs wobble, the intensity of his gaze making me feel faint. Thank God Cannon still has a grip on me or I’d probably collapse to the floor.
“Mandy.” Jordan’s deep voice rumbles along my nerve endings, causing me to shiver, and Cannon turns me toward him just before he releases me, like they planned it beforehand. I’m face to face with Jordan Tuttle for the first time in six years—six freaking years!—and I do the dumbest thing ever.
I stick my hand out for him to shake it.
Of course, I’m not going to shake Amanda’s hand.
Instead I grab hold of it, that unmistakable jolt of electricity sparking when our skin connects, just like every other time we’ve touched. I pull her to me and wrap her up in my arms because I can. I’m the one who offered up the tickets so I could…what? Show off? Let her know exactly how great my life is?